


Impasse

by Embracingtheplotbunnies



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, game of thrones
Genre: Also on Tumblr, F/M, Game of Thrones spoilers, Leaked spoilers, Maybe - Freeform, Oneshot, Romance, Spoilers for 7x04, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 13:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11715147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Embracingtheplotbunnies/pseuds/Embracingtheplotbunnies
Summary: Even in this cave, surrounded by history, there's still a gap between them they can't hope to bridge. If they want the same things for their people, how is it so hard for them to come to an agreement?Of course, they didn't mean to complicate things further.





	Impasse

**Author's Note:**

> Also on my tumblr, @blue-roses-in-a-wall-of-ice. I've been writing a lot of Jonerys prompts for people recently; most are too short to post on here, but if you're looking for more of my writing that's always a good place to look lol. 
> 
> So long story short I saw bits and pieces of 7.04 and I fell in love with the cave scene right off the bat. And I got a prompt to write Jon and Dany's feelings afterwards and...this is what happened. 
> 
> Warning: Spoilers below. I don't want to accidentally spoil anyone if you haven't seen/read the leaks yet or don't want to before the episode airs. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Dany finds herself drawn back to the cave again that night, unable to stop thinking about the cave paintings-the Children, the First Men, and...the others. The White Walkers. 

She doesn’t tell anyone where she’s going; she lets Tyrion know that she’ll be out taking a walk along the beach and leaves, pulling her cloak tight around her against the evening chill. It never gets cold enough to snow here, not so close to the sea, but there’s still a bite in the air when the sun goes down. 

Right now she’s not worried about Tyrion’s schemes or the attack on the Lannisters she’s planning for the next day. This is a problem she has to figure out for herself. What reason would Jon have to lie to her? But what can she do if he’s telling the truth? 

The cave is dim and quiet, punctuated only by the drips of falling water here and there. The mining equipment has been abandoned for the night and the soles of her boots ring out hollowly as she passes the horde of dragonglass and turns into the side alcove Jon showed her earlier that day. The paintings are still there, weathered with age but glimmering dully in the light from her torch. 

She examines them more closely now: the symbols made by the Children of the Forest, long before there were Starks or Lannisters, before the Targaryens had even begun to think about crossing the Narrow Sea. They hold no meaning to her; just whorls of paint meant to convey meaning-and then, on the other side of the cave, the White Walkers. A shiver creeps down her spine when she looks at them, a primal fear from somewhere deep inside of her, the way she’d felt when Viserys had told her stories about monsters and ghosts to frighten her as a child. 

But the Others are gone now. The Long Night is over. 

She hears footsteps behind her and she turns quickly, nearly dropping her torch. Jon steps into the light with a torch of his own, hands slightly raised as if he’s trying not to startle her. “The guards said they saw you pass this way.”

“I’m admiring the paintings.” She reaches out to touch one carefully, fingers moving through a fine layer of dust. “Do you know what the symbols mean?”

He shakes his head. “I only know what I’ve seen, your Grace. And I haven’t seen any Children of the Forest.”

“But you’ve seen the White Walkers?”

He nods. “Unfortunately, I’ve seen them more than I’d like to.” 

“What are they like?” 

He looks at her in surprise, the firelight glittering in his dark eyes. Not for the first time, she realizes that he has beautiful eyes. “The White Walkers?”

She nods. “I want you to tell me what you’ve seen.” I need to know if there’s really something to your story. 

“You can feel them before you see them. The world gets colder, trees freeze over, animals die between one step and the next. They’re soundless, silent, like the snow blowing through trees; made of ice, with hair of white, carrying swords of pure ice. And their eyes are the brightest blue, brighter than the sky.” She finds herself shivering, even though the cave is warm, because suddenly she’s there with him-in a forest somewhere far to the north, surrounded by creatures who can kill her with a single touch. 

“And dragonglass is the only thing that can kill them?”

“Dragonglass, Valyrian steel, and dragonfire. That’s all that we know of. They freeze the blades of regular swords and snuff out normal fires. That doesn’t leave us with many options.”

“Haven’t you told anyone else? Isn’t there anyone else that can help you?”

He shakes his head, slowly. “The rest of the Seven Kingdoms are either in ruins or they don’t believe us. As you know, it’s a hard story to stomach.”

She sighs. “I can’t help you. You must know this. I cannot abandon my pursuit of King’s Landing for an enemy far to the north-”

“Cersei can wait. The White Walkers cannot.” 

“They’re hundreds of miles away.”

“Not for long. Once they breach the wall and overwhelm our defenses, they can cover the Seven Kingdoms in a matter of months. Perhaps even weeks. And they’ll leave nothing living in their wake.” He takes half a step closer to her; maybe anywhere else she wouldn’t notice, but here with him in the dark it’s hard not to. “I’ve seen their ruler your Grace. I’ve fought the Night King. And the North cannot defeat them on its own. But if we don’t, the realm will pay the price. You claim to care about the realm? Then fight for it.”

“It’s not so simple. You claim your people won’t accept a southern ruler. I made a promise to my allies to see Cersei’s downfall, and I will. They’ve suffered terribly at the hands of the Lannisters and I won’t stand for it-”

“I’m not saying you should. She doesn’t deserve to sit the Iron Throne. But your other enemy is far more pressing. And your allies will follow you, if they believe in you as they say they do.” 

“You ask for my children, my ships, my armies, my weapons, my commitment, my soldiers dying in pain in the far north-and what do you offer me in return? Nothing. There is no sacrifice on your part, though you ask everything of me. Don’t you see how this isn’t fair? How is this a deal that I can make?”

“If you ignore the White Walkers you trade away your chance at a dynasty, at a kingdom...at your life. You forfeit the lives of every single person you swore to protect.”

“Bend the knee. Declare your support for House Targaryen. Put the survival of your people over your own pride.” She walks away from him, towards the etchings of the White Walkers-so small, and yet they mean everything. “Though, if it’s any consolation, I believe you.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence. “You do?”

“I do. I don’t see what reason you would have to lie to me, because from what I’ve seen of you and what everyone else has told me about you, you seem like a good man. But my offer still stands-I cannot make this sacrifice without asking for something in return. It’s not fair to my people. It’s not fair to me.” 

The silence between them is filled with melancholy, as if they’re standing on opposite sides of a gap that neither can cross because neither one is willing to back down. 

“I am not your enemy,” Jon says quietly, carefully. “I have no wish to sit on the Iron Throne-”

“Then be my friend. The gods know I need all the help I can get, now.”

He takes her hand, carefully, as if at any second he’s waiting for her to pull away. But she doesn’t; she’s more surprised than anything else. His hands are soft and warm, though calloused from labor. In this moment, she can almost forget that they represent two very different kingdoms. It’s almost just the two of them, standing in a cave, with no titles in the way. “If you had seen what I have seen-”

“But I haven’t. I’ve never seen White Walkers, or wildlings, or snow...but I have seen slavery, and men doing unspeakable evils to fellow human beings. I’ve had unspeakable things done to me. They are the people I fight for, Jon Snow...and I cannot divest without a sacrifice on your part as well. Bend the knee.” 

She knows he won’t, knows he can’t-just as she cannot pledge all of her armies to his cause. She’s put out an offer, but it’s the only one she’ll take. 

It’s a wonder that he hasn’t already returned to Winterfell. Maybe he should just go back, with his dragonglass. It’s clear that negotiations won’t be going any farther. And yet, she’s surprised to find that she’ll miss seeing him around the castle-standing on the terrace, looking out at the ocean, or looking uncomfortable in his heavy jerkin. 

“Why do you wear such heavy clothes?” She fiddles with the armor and gently pulls it off, revealing a simple white shirt underneath. He looks strangely exposed, strangely vulnerable. “If we were going to kill you, we would have done it already.”

His hand comes to cup the back of her head and she knows what’s going to happen before it does-before they meet each other halfway. 

His lips taste like fresh snow in a quiet forest, of fire and woodsmoke on a cold winter night, of stars in a cold and cloudless sky. She rises to the tips of her toes, drawn towards him by some magnetic force, feeling a sudden need to get closer. He pulls her closer, gently, carefully, taking care that she doesn’t slip on the rocky ground, and deepens the kiss until she’s dissolving in him even though she knows full well she shouldn’t be. 

They break apart at almost the same moment, shocked back into reality. For a moment they just look at each other, almost embarrassed; she has to force down the urge not to kiss him again. The look in his eyes is quizzical...but not necessarily unhappy. 

“Good night, Lord Snow,” she says as she gathers up her torch in one hand and starts to walk away. She can’t look back at him, can’t let herself think on this thing that she has done...she can’t make negotiations more complicated than they are. 

And yet she can’t help wishing that she’d never stopped at all and they’re still back in that cave, pressed up against the paintings, wishing the White Walkers away into another lifetime because something so dangerous cannot exist in a world with such pure bliss. 

 

Jon can’t look at Davos as they take a silent dinner together in one of Dragonstone’s many empty chambers. He’s sure the guilt is plain on his face. He kissed her. He kissed the Dragon Queen. And she kissed him back. 

But she still won’t help them. 

He should be upset, but he can’t be when he knows that their positions are very much the same. Not when he still remembers the taste of her lips-like sand, sun, and the air off the ocean...like faraway exotic places he’s never been and will probably never see. He wanted to call after her when she walked away, even to just apologize for his forwardness, but he felt sick with embarrassment so he hadn’t been able to say a word. “I don’t know how much longer we can stay here.”

Davos looks up from his meal, startled. “Did something happen? I thought the two of you were getting along rather well.”

He shakes his head. Not like you think. “I just...don’t think we’re getting anywhere.” 

“We haven’t finished mining the dragonglass yet. Do you think you can tough it out until we’re done? 

He nods, suddenly feeling a fierce and sharp longing for home-and for his family, the way it used to be. He’d give up the crown that theoretically rests on his head in a heartbeat if it meant that he could see his father and siblings again, even just one more time. 

He wishes he could talk to Sansa. Maybe Sansa would know what to do, what to say. At the very least, he could tell her that he would give up Northern independence in a heartbeat if it meant they stayed alive. And Daenerys certainly isn’t the worst ruler he’s ever met. 

In a way he’s still in that cave again, torchlight dancing off the walls and reflecting off her eyes (she has the most beautiful eyes). 

In his mind, he calls her back when she walks away.


End file.
